


Finally, I understand

by edgy_fluffball



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Bailing Out Friends, Café Musain, Drink to Forget, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grantaire Picks Up The Pieces, M/M, Probable Police Brutality Mentioned, Protests, Role Reversal, Weapons-grade Glitter, What Happens After The Protest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_fluffball/pseuds/edgy_fluffball
Summary: After a rally gone wrong it is Grantaire who sees himself having to take on more responsibility than he ever planned having. Unfortunately, that means dealing with both Courfeyrac and Enjolras.





	Finally, I understand

About everything they had calculated for had gone wrong and everybody hit the ground running in an attempt to get as far away as possible from the pounding noise in the streets. The distinctive sound of batons on ESP shields had sent them flying, scattering in all directions. Where a group of protesters had blocked the road with banners, signs and whatever they had brought to finish off their sit-in, a swathe was cut through the protesters. The goal had been to prevent a delegation of international businessmen from entering a hotel that was supposed to be the setting for one of the biggest oil company mergers in the history of the sector. The people pursuing this goal were the usual suspects: students with too much time on their hands and thoughts of grandeur and change in their heads. They were easy enough to stir and easy enough to get rid of, in the police’s eye. Whoever stayed or was slow enough to get caught was in for at least one night at the station, depending on how quick their friends were to bail them out. The students knew better than to linger, too many of them had experienced what it was like to be at the police’s mercy for a night or two, especially since Javert joined the forces to personally ensure that the culprits were apprehended. If anyone was treated with more force and viciousness than necessary, it appeared as “resisting arrest” in the official reports, written up by Javert himself.

Peaceful protests turned into police violence and people got hurt trying to make an impact, one of them had said that in a meeting before continuing to sow together bandages for the worst case scenario. At the time, Grantaire had not thought he would see the day when they actually needed them.

Within months after his first protest, he had seen more violent police interventions than he thought he would see in his life. Most came with bruises, and insults thrown at policemen, batons to arms and legs and sometimes tear gas. Grantaire still could not understand how he had been roped into joining a student protest group but he shared a few of their views at least, other than the table top role play group he had joined in the first term only to find out that it was a rather weak cover for a hentai trading ring. He had left two weeks later and accompanied his friends to their debate society since he did not know what else to do with his Thursday evenings and they met in a bar which seemed reason enough to give it a try. At some point, he had started going along to the protests the group attended, standing in the back during speeches and rallies and following behind them during demonstrations and protest marches. It was rare enough that he even knew what they were protesting for before showing up on site. With recent developments, however, even he felt the anger about student fees being raised and taxes affecting low income classes installed. Enjolras had scoffed about him only showing real interest once his own means were affected until Combeferre had pointed out to him that Grantaire’s interest in the issue actually helped them strengthen their point since everybody was in for once. Enjolras had given him flyers to distribute whilst he was giving his speech from Bahorel’s shoulders since they had no stage or platform to talk from. It was the first time Grantaire was in the middle of it and managed to hand out the flyers with an easy grin and a joke.

And then, the police arrived. The dull pounding of heavy boots on the asphalt, batons on shields and sirens of cars pulling up were sounds they all had heard before, Enjolras made a point of not paying the authorities for a permit which they were bound not to get, given the nature of their ambitions and demands. It saved them trouble but also meant that almost all of them had been arrested at least once for disturbance and breach of the peace, criminal damage, or being part of an illegal demonstration. It also meant that no one wanted to risk another arrest since any of them could be the final straw getting them into serious trouble.

Grantaire saw his friends scatter in all winds, ducking into alleyways and side roads. For a moment, he thought to have seen Enjolras and Bahorel, dashing from the square in opposite directions. Before he bolted as well, he saw the distinct face of police chief Javert who had taken their activities personal and pursued them with the blatant intention of eventually charging them. _Les Amis de l’ABC_ had responded by drafting up an article about abuse of authority on their blog. Grantaire could tell from the sour expression on his face that Javert was set on catching someone. He made himself scarce, set on not turning out to be the one they got.

Grantaire sprinted down the main road, ditching passers-by and cars, trying to get to one of the alleys that snaked their way through the city centre. He reached it just in time to hear rubber bullets being fired into the crowd still at the square but none hit him. It did not take long for the police to use their non-lethal options against _Les Amis_ , not after years of experience with them.

He found a doorway deep and shaded enough to hide in and tried to calm his breathing. People proceeded to run past him, shouting back over their shoulders and throwing whatever they had in their hands. Grantaire squeezed into his doorway when he heard the police approach, one heavy stomp after the other.

‘We have every right to protest, you are gagging a whole group of people by supporting ridiculous policies! The victims are people who have financial problems as it is, and these new regulations will only affect them, not the companies around here that –‘

Grantaire cursed quietly, having recognized the fiery voice that echoed down the narrow alley. He peeked around the corner of his hiding place and groaned in exaggerated despair. Enjolras stood in the middle of the road, his back turned to him, yelling in the general direction of the approaching police officers.

‘Jesus Christ –,’ Grantaire left his spot in the doorway and ran towards his leader who was still spitting his arguments at anyone who could hear them, ‘Enjolras, what are you doing? You need to get out of here, Javert is out there!’

‘What am I doing?’ Enjolras stared at him, eyes flicking from his face to the hand Grantaire had clamped around his arm, ‘What are you doing back here, I thought everybody had got out!’

‘Well, I did,’ Grantaire started pulling on Enjolras’ arm, trying to get him to follow him, away from the ruckus, ‘and then I saw this idiot standing in the middle of the street, shouting at armed policemen. This idiot who’s got the most arrests under his belt, out of all of us and risks actually being charged with something, if he gets arrested another time. It’s not worth it, Enjolras!’

After another hard tug, Enjolras started to move. He followed him down the alley, beyond the barricade of dustbins at the end of the road. Grantaire led Enjolras around the first corner, looking for another hiding spot since he could hear the heavy boot steps coming down the alley.

Eventually, he pulled Enjolras into another doorway, breathless and hopeful to have found a spot where they could escape the watchful eye of the police, ‘Are you okay? No tear gas, rubber bullets, no bruises?’

Enjolras shook his head, ‘Bahorel all but threw me off his shoulders. Why are you so worried about my potential injuries?’

‘Because you tend to be on the front line in these situations, and you get arrested almost every time,’ Grantaire tried to spy around the corner, in case police men came looking for them.

The street seemed empty and quiet. He returned his attention to Enjolras who still tried to get his breath back. His eyes flickered, torn between reason and the urge to run back out.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Grantaire warned, ‘Javert is out for you as it is, he’s only looking for a reason not to let you off as easy as the last times.’

Enjolras tried to sneak a look around the corner, pushing Grantaire against the doorway, ‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry, I just wanted to see whether anyone is coming.’

‘And?’ Grantaire resisted the first instinct of leaning closer to Enjolras, he had learned to control himself but sometimes, his resolution was put to the test.

‘Javert,’ Enjolras pressed out, ‘try to get further out of sight.’

Grantaire supressed a curse and squatted down in the doorway. With luck, the flowerpots in front of the building would hide him. Enjolras joined him, leaning back into the shadow of the frame. The sound of quick steps came closer, and then, with orders shouted back at lower ranks, police chief Javert ran past them. Both of them held their breath, watching as more officers followed him.

‘Wow,’ Grantaire sighed, ‘they get together more and more people to get rid of us, don’t they?’

A glance to the side told him that his comment had done little to calm Enjolras down. He seemed to get even angrier at the prospect of Javert going to such lengths to get back at Les Amis.

‘This was supposed to be the easy thing, common sense is on our side, no one could come up with arguments that don’t expose them as heartless, profit-driven and –‘

‘I’m going to stop you there,’ Grantaire looked around the corner, ‘First of all, the coast is clear. Second, no one will listen to your arguments, not as long as you present them with either an uncomfortable truth or something that exposes them as the cutthroats they are. Adapting is better, when it comes to them. They’ll never accept whatever you try to sell them.’

‘We failed – I failed. Again,’ Enjolras buried his face in his hands and slumped against the wall, ‘all in vain.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ Grantaire started tugging on his arm again, ‘we need to get to the headquarters, otherwise they’ll start thinking about posting bail for you. I don’t have reception but I’m sure the group chat is already going crazy.’

They staggered through the streets, carefully avoiding the police patrols still roaming the streets. The back alleys and gardens were their escape routes as well as the advantage they had over the police since they would not use them, bound by law as they were.

The known headquarters at the _Musain_ had been raided by Javert’s men several times, always on suspicion of drug possession and other rapscallion activities. The clean slate Combeferre kept regarding their official business and finance helped but it did little to convince the authorities of their innocence. Javert tried it again and again, until the owners of the _Musain_ told _Les Amis_ to just use the backroom and the old wine cellar no one used anymore. As far as headquarters went, the cellar was perfect for them.

He manoeuvred Enjolras through the back entrance, down the stairs and into the cool tunnel of the cellar. The barkeep had given them free reign to do whatever they liked with the place, smirking under his beard before he launched himself into a story of how he had been part of the protests in ’68. By the time he had finished, only Grantaire still sat in front of him, listening to the stories he told whilst everybody else inspected the cellar.

Their lair had the aesthetic of a nineteenth-century tavern, made up with mismatched chairs and tables, including a chart table and a mighty secretary in a corner. Marius had removed an old armchair from his grandfather’s salon and it had become Grantaire’s regular spot in the corner from where he followed the debates.

As Grantaire passed the door to the taproom, he fought the wish to go in and grab a bottle of booze. Enjolras heavy steps next to him kept him from it. He trotted along next to him, his head lowered as if ashamed. Grantaire opened the door with one arm around him, trying to keep him upright.

‘Entering your territory now,’ he said quietly, a soft warning, ‘you might want to pick yourself up and seem like the flaming leader we know.’

The door opened to reveal their hideout. Its rough walls were the steadfast foundation of their cause, combined with the will Enjolras and his friends brought forward to pursue their goal. Grantaire had come to appreciate them as the friends they had become.

Only Feuilly and Combeferre were present as he wrangled Enjolras in the armchair. They had bent over the chart table, phones on the surface and worry lines around their eyes. Grantaire saw the way Feuilly tried to relieve one of his leg and the scratches on his face.

‘Thank the heavens, Enjolras,’ Combeferre looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose, ‘you brought back Grantaire.’

Grantaire rolled his eyes but made no attempt to correct him. Instead, he pushed Enjolras into the cushions and stepped back a moment to catch his breath.

‘Where are the others?’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, ‘You made it back here okay?’

‘One baton to the shin and ‘Ferre barely escaped arrest,’ Feuilly grinned, ‘have had worse. You?’

‘Javert ran straight past us, all panting and red in the face,’ Grantaire grinned, scrolling through the new massages, ‘so, Joly and Jehan are safe?’

‘Same as Bahorel, he got rid of Enjolras and dashed. He’s with Marius, Éponine and Cosette at the Gillenormand’s.’

‘What about Bossuet and Courfeyrac?’ Grantaire turned around, in the futile attempt to spot them somewhere in the room, giving in to the subconscious wish to see them hide somewhere.

‘We don’t know, haven’t heard from them so far,’ Feuilly rolled up his sleeves and ran his fingers through his hair, ‘we might just have to assume the worst.’

Grantaire wiped his forehead on his sleeve, ‘Station?’

‘In for the night or out on bail. We haven’t received their calls yet,’ Combeferre nodded towards the assembled phones on the table, ‘mine, Feuilly’s, the official _Amis_ phone and Courf’s. He left it with me after he lost his old one during one of the last rallies. Stupid boy.’

Grantaire could tell just how trying it was for him to smile through the words. The worries in his eyes spoke more than a thousand attempts to smooth over the situation and Grantaire wished he could help him feel safer. As long as Courfeyrac was MIA, Combeferre was out for the count and of no good for them.

He pulled Feuilly’s laptop closer, pulled up the police’s website and started scrolling, tipping and clicking through the pages, ‘Here, they installed this a few months back. They put the names of people who could be released on bail for minor offences online for their contacts to see. No call needed anymore.’

Combeferre leant over his shoulder, ‘There’s Bossuet!’

‘And Courfeyrac. They are both in!’ Feuilly pointed at the screen, ‘Why on earth do you know about this, Grantaire?’

‘I have my reasons,’ he clicked through a few more links to make sure he found the right precinct, avoiding his friends’ eyes.

He could not admit that he spent whole evenings refreshing the page when he knew that Enjolras was out in the streets, on his own, equipped with spray paint, posters and stickers. Pointing to the screen he grabbed the _Amis_ phone.

‘I’ll give them a ring.’

‘Why you?’

‘Because I had the idea,’ Grantaire pushed himself off the table, ‘and because I will be the one to get them out.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘What, Combeferre, do you want to enter a police precinct? After you barely got off with a warning last time? Or Feuilly? Who limps because he took a police beating?’ Grantaire dialled a number and held the phone to his ear, ‘Out of all of us, I am the only one who never got arrested. If I walk in there with their bail, they get out. If you or, heaven forbid, Enjolras show up there, you get questioned and restrained! We could call Joly or Marius but I doubt Joly can still walk and Marius went last time. It’s easier that way.’

The call got accepted and he left the room to enquire about the bail set for his friends. When he returned, he set the phone down again. Combeferre looked up at him with new hope in his eyes.

‘Five hundred for either of them. Do I have your approval as treasurer?’ He turned to Feuilly, ignoring the way Combeferre fumed.

‘Of course,’ Feuilly nodded and got the bank card out of the safe behind the chart table, ‘make sure to return it.’

‘What do you think I am, a drunk idiot?’ Grantaire winked at him, ‘Go home, I’ll deliver them. I’m sure Courf will annoy me into speeding once he’s out.’

He nodded a farewell and left, closing the cellar door behind him. Distant shouting made him believe Enjolras had gotten up and decided to challenge Feuilly and Combeferre over whatever rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing he could do to calm him down now, he had a mission and as much as he longed to go home and sleep, Bossuet and Courfeyrac were waiting for someone to post their bail and get them out of their temporary containment.

He had parked his mint green fiat behind the Musain, despite the constant protests from Enjolras who insisted they did not need cars since it undermined their credibility. Grantaire had told him to carry whatever equipment he needed for their next demonstration if he did not require his vehicle services. Enjolras had stared at him for a moment with dark eyes and violent thoughts before returning to whatever important business he had to attend to. The car was old and battered but it got him from one point to the other, he did not need it to do more than that.

He got to the police station quick enough and met an officer at the reception desk, ‘I’m here to bail out two students you took in today.’

‘The angry hamster and the unlucky fellow?’ The officer thumbed through some papers, looking up at him with the boredom of a long shift, ‘Please, be my guest. I really don’t understand why we have to take them in, anyway. Orders from the top, I s’ppose but it’s a shame, really. How much bail have they set for them?’

‘Five hundred each,’ Grantaire got the bank card out of his wallet.

‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ the officer rolled his eyes, ‘five hundred for expressing your opinion? What nonsense, let’s make it five hundred for both. I really want to see them gone, at this point. Do you want to break the happy news to them?’

Grantaire nodded and followed him around a corner and down a hallway towards the cells. He could hear somebody shout and kick against metal bars, cursing the next person to enter the room and their children and descendants. The police man looked at him over his shoulder as if to say “See what I have to deal with?” but all Grantaire could offer him was an apologetic grin.

‘Has he been like this for long?’

‘Since he came in,’ the officer scratched his neck, ‘I don’t think he stopped screaming for as much as five minutes.’

‘Sorry to hear that but that’s about what he does,’ Grantaire shrugged, ‘I hope he hasn’t threatened anyone in particular?’

‘Just the chief,’ a lopsided sneer accompanied the words, ‘nothing new there, I don’t think any of you students has ever come in without screaming blue murder.’

‘ – and just so you know, we haven’t done anything wrong, you can’t keep us in here forever and if you even try to, I will curse your fecking grandchildren and their children and everybody coming afterwards in your family, until no one can even remember where their misfortune came from! I’ll hex your guts, you miserable –‘

‘Is your friend Irish?’ asked the officer with a tilt of his head, ‘or a warlock?’

‘Nah, only in his dreams,’ Grantaire grinned as he entered the room, ‘Good evening, Courf, as I can see, you have made yourself quite at home here.’

‘Grantaire – finally!’ Courfeyrac came to the bars, ‘I almost thought you were going to leave us here overnight!’

‘And drive Combeferre into a frenzy? I have a heart, you know?’ Grantaire looked past Courfeyrac and spotted Bossuet in a corner of the cell, ‘Are you okay, Lesgle?’

Bossuet just wailed a bit in the back of the room, his chin resting in his palm. When he lifted his head, Grantaire spotted the black eye he sported. He turned around to the police officer and cleared his throat.

The man shrugged and shook his head, ‘Don’t blame me, he looked like that when he came in earlier.’

‘Don’t worry, Grantaire, nothing out of the ordinary. I ran into Courf’s fist when we tried to get away,’ Bossuet got up slowly, ‘just a normal day…’

‘That sounds like picture-book domestic abuse,’ the police man joined Grantaire in the room.

‘Except, that’s what actually happens to him all the time,’ Grantaire motioned towards the cell door, ‘can I take them now?’

‘Sure,’ the officer got the keys out, ‘and have fun with that one.’

Courfeyrac went ballistic, his cheeks turned red and a second later, more profanities spilled from his lips, ‘You didn’t even have the right to arrest us in the first place!’

‘As I said, have fun with that one,’ the police man rolled his eyes again and waved Courfeyrac and Bossuet to leave the cell, ‘Well, at least he’s easier to deal with than that leader of yours…I was surprised not to see him in here today. Javert was almost looking forward to pressing charges today.’

‘And instead you just get to deal with me,’ Courfeyrac stuffed his hands in his pockets and marched out of the cell, ‘try dealing with this!’

And with that, he pulled one hand out of his pocket and threw what he had grabbed at the officer. The small, bulging items sailed through the air and burst on impact with the police man’s shoulder and the wall behind him. A shower of glitter and slime erupted over him, gliding down his uniform shirt and dripping off his hair.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Grantaire groaned, grabbed Bossuet’s hand and started through the door, following Courfeyrac, ‘Run!’

He dragged his friend through the police station and outside. Courfeyrac stood next to the car, leaning against the door. His breath came in short huffs, he still looked furious and his curls had more of an unruly mop than an actual hairstyle.

‘Did you see what I did there? That condescending son of a biscuit –‘

‘You threw a goddamn glitter bomb at him, Courfeyrac, I’m not even talking to you right now,’ Grantaire unlocked the car and motioned Bossuet to get in, ‘I’m taking you home, get in the fucking car.’

‘I just wanted to make a point,’ Courfeyrac pouted and scooted in the backseat, ‘He’ll have a fecking nightmare trying to get rid of it!’

‘You are the epitome of improvidence and I am just too glad that I can dump you at Combeferre’s,’ Grantaire took the next turn and drove down the street leading to the apartment building where Bossuet lived with Joly, ‘I hope you’re okay, Lesgle. No thanks to Courf, of course. Have Joly look after your eye a bit, it’s dark enough as it is.’

‘Thanks for bailing us out,’ Bossuet patted Grantaire’s shoulder with a yawn, ‘it’s very much appreciated. See you soon and give my best to Ferre and Enjolras.’

‘Careful on the way upstairs!’

Grantaire started on the second part of his delivery, setting his sight on Combeferre’s flat to drop off Courfeyrac. They sat in silence, Grantaire unwilling to talk to his passenger and Courfeyrac had crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window. He picked glitter particles out from under his nails and blew them into the leg room of the car. Grantaire chose not to say anything but to let his actions speak.

When he pulled up in front of the house, he got out of the car and grabbed Courfeyrac by his neck, just like he would have grabbed a kitten, ‘Just so you know, I will not come and bail you out ever again if you pull stunts like that. And I’ll start charging Combeferre for my babysitter services as well.’

‘Oh please don’t,’ Courfeyrac grinned up at him uneasily, ‘he wouldn’t be happy about that.’

‘He would keep a closer eye on you, if that’s what you mean,’ he rang the doorbell and waited for Combeferre to buzz them in, ‘you’ll get yourself into more trouble than…than –‘

‘Than who, R? Tell me!’ Courfeyrac crossed his arms over his chest, ‘I am all ears!’

‘Enjolras, there, I said it! You’ll get yourself into more trouble than Enjolras.’

‘Oh that’s what you say, I refuse to accept it!’

‘At least, he has the sense to run away and hide instead of accidentally hitting his friends.’

‘Who hit their friends?’ Combeferre’s voice sounded tinny through the intercom.

‘Courf gave Bossuet a black eye by accident,’ Grantaire pushed the door open and pulled Courfeyrac through the frame.

Combeferre waited for them on the landing, arms crossed and glasses on the tip of his nose.

‘Look at what you’ve done, R,’ Courfeyrac ducked behind his back, ‘he will not let me live that down.’

‘I will but not tonight,’ Combeferre held a hand out for Courfeyrac to take, ‘come on, you need to eat something and then you can rest or whatever you need.’

He kissed him and pulled him into a hug, ‘I was worried you were going to be in for the night. Thanks for bringing him back, R. I would have – well, let’s just say I don’t sleep well without someone there to kick me in the shins all the time.’

Grantaire nodded, trying his best to stay serious as Combeferre wrangled Courfeyrac out of his denim jacket and into a fleece blanket. He made him sit down on the sofa and only came back to Grantaire after ensuring that he could not move.

‘Honestly, thank you, Grantaire,’ he clapped his shoulder, ‘it’s appreciated. I know he can be a test sometimes. At least this time, he didn’t throw punches at police men, right?’

‘Nah, only glitter bombs today,’ Grantaire watched with relish as Courfeyrac waved about frantically behind Combeferre’s back, ‘goodnight, let me know once Enjolras comes home. I’ll be at the _Musain_ , there’s only so much Courf I can deal with whilst sober.’

‘See you later,’ Combeferre waved and closed the door but Grantaire still saw the serious face he put on as he turned back to Courfeyrac.

Grantaire grinned until long after he drove off towards the tavern. He switched on the radio and sang along to the first song that came on. It did not take much longer than that to get to the _Musain_. This time, he went through the front door to buy a bottle of wine from the barkeeper before returning into the cellar to empty it without interruption and enough time to contemplate why he had ended up not only joining a protest as a genuine marcher but also the one in charge of the bailing out duties. It rendered him speechless.

‘Evening, Grantaire, how was the protest?’ The barkeeper got a bottle from under the bar, ‘the usual?’

‘Thanks, I need that,’ Grantaire paid and took the bottle, ‘I s’ppose everybody else has gone home?’

‘Well, not many of you came in but Enjolras should be downstairs. I think there might be someone else, too; if not, he should be – well, tired and emotional by now. I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Thanks, man,’ Grantaire squeezed past the counter and opened the backdoor, ‘see you later.’

He made his way down the stairs and opened the bottle with his penknife. A few gulps later, he opened the door to the cellar. One single lamp was still burning in the corner next to the armchair.

‘Hey, are you really still here?’ Grantaire pushed an empty bottle aside, it rolled over the floor and hit two more under a table, ‘This is not right – you’re supposed to kick me out when I’m too drunk to stand.’

‘The world is upside down,’ Enjolras slurred a little, waving at him with a half-empty bottle, ‘you won, are you happy about that? No more protests, no rallies, no bloody speeches.’

‘Come on now,’ Grantaire set down his bottle on a nearby table, ‘I should get you home, I guess. You can’t stay here, all by yourself in that foul mood.’

He crossed the room and pulled a chair closer. Enjolras had curled up in the armchair, legs dangling over the armrest and with the bottle hugged close.

‘I want to be alone, though,’ he snuffled, ‘a failure deserves to be deserted. Left alone without the comfort of friends and comrades –‘

Grantaire cleared his throat and patted his arm awkwardly. An intoxicated Enjolras surpassed what he was able to deal with, no matter how cute the droopy, sad eyes and pout made him look.

‘Listen, you are not a failure and you certainly are not alone!’

‘It doesn’t make sense to follow this grand plan…as if it’ll happen. And all I do is get you guys in trouble.’

‘Enjolras, seriously – all members of the group are home for a change, no one is in jail or in police custody and there were journalists at the rally, they will definitely report about the cause,’ Grantaire took the bottle from Enjolras and set it aside, ‘can’t I please just take you home?’

‘Too close, Grantaire, today could have been the day it all goes wrong. We don’t know which price we will have to pay for our efforts –‘

‘Oh boo-hoo, what’s the worst that can happen to you, huh? What do you expect, rich white boy in Europe, being shot at? Maybe, if your parents found out about your favourite pastime activity, you would have to face some consequences but since that’s unlikely… oh yes, Javert could give you a stern talking to!’

Enjolras groaned, his eyes slipped shut and he slumped over, falling into Grantaire’s arms. He seemed half-passed out, reason enough for Grantaire to curse his bad luck through his teeth. A heavy arm was slung around his neck. He tried to get Enjolras to stand up but all he achieved was that he nestled his head in the crook of his neck.

‘I can’t feel my legs,’ he mumbled into his shoulder, clinging to Grantaire, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to carry me.’

‘I’m afraid, you’re right,’ Grantaire sighed, ‘I parked a few streets over and I can’t really leave you here, right?’

Enjolras’ words were unintelligible but Grantaire chose to assume that he was alright with the treatment he subjected him to. Judging by the tiddly giggling coming from his friend a moment after he had loaded him on his back, he would not have to deal with resistance as he gave him a piggyback ride to the car. As they left the cellar, he just remembered to grab his bottle from the table.

They had managed to cross the first street without his knees buckling under Enjolras’ weight, when his load decided to accompany their trek with a commentary. He bent forward, tickling Grantaire’s neck with his hair and began yelling into his ear.

‘Hey Grantaire, did I ever tell you just what a good friend you are? You’re really considerate and helpful and we never tell you… and you still do all this and help us and bail Courf out, even though he’s sometimes annoying – you are a cool person, Grantaire…’

‘And you are drunk, goddammit,’ Grantaire groaned and tried to readjust Enjolras on his back, ‘I didn’t sign up for this when I joined your debate club, you know that, don’t you?’

He manoeuvred Enjolras into the passenger seat and strapped him in. His friend still voiced his opinion on Grantaire’s many merits when he pulled up in front of the house for the second time, something he tried to block out since a sober Enjolras would not be caught dead saying these things. Listening in on his drunk thoughts gave him little pleasure and he did not want to know what Enjolras would do if he ever found out about what Grantaire had heard from him.

He rang the bell and waited until Combeferre answered, ‘I really hope that’s you, Enjolras, otherwise, I’m going to have to send out a search party.’

‘It’s me again…with Enjolras,’ Grantaire grabbed his arm and dragged him into a vertical position, ‘I might need a hand down here, he’s not in a good place right now.’

‘Did you snog him senseless?’ Courfeyrac’s voice came over the intercom, excited enough for Grantaire to imagine how he had shoved Combeferre aside.

‘Nope, he’s piss drunk.’

The door opened and Combeferre appeared in front of them, ‘No questions asked, R.’

He slung one of Enjolras’ arms around his neck and began to help him up the stairs. Grantaire jumped to his side to help out, just as Combeferre lost his footing for a second. Together, they managed to wrangle Enjolras up the stairs and past Courfeyrac who stood in the door, filming their every move.

‘He’s going to be so embarrassed when I show him this tomorrow morning,’ he beamed at them gleefully and zoomed in on Enjolras face before sitting back down on the sofa, ‘it’s like a fallen angel; Enjolras abandoning his statute. A truly beautiful sight.’

‘Stop jabbering and put that away,’ Grantaire kicked him in passing, ‘I’m going to be quick and put him to bed. He should sleep it off in no time.’

‘Yes, Grantaire taking Enjolras to bed! Finally, you get to enter the holy chambers of his bedroom –‘

‘Oh shut up, Courf!’

‘Be quiet, he bailed you out today,’ Combeferre rolled his eyes, ‘I’m sorry, R. That kind of behaviour cannot be slept off easily, I’m afraid.’

‘I know,’ Grantaire sighed, ‘It’s just Courf…’

He managed to get Enjolras into his bedroom and, eventually, into bed. With his hair unfurled over the pillow and the blanket pulled up to his chin he was a sight to behold. Grantaire allowed himself a moment to drink in the sight of his friend, knowing that he was not likely to get to experience it again. Not when Enjolras was going to sober up eventually.

‘Grantaire?’ Enjolras turned under the blanket to face him, ‘I think…I think I might be drunk…’

‘You don’t say,’ Grantaire smiled carefully, ‘try to get some sleep, you might feel pretty awful tomorrow.’

‘You took me home. Did you get Courf out of jail, too?’

‘Well, he almost got himself back in immediately after…he threw one of his glitter bombs at the officer. Inside the station.’

Enjolras rolled himself up in a ball and giggled sleepily into his blanket, ‘Sounds like him. Will you stay tonight, R? It’s too late and your car’s lights are still broken. We all know that… and I saw it earlier. You shouldn’t drive it at night.’

A soft knock made Grantaire look up. Combeferre stood in the doorway, holding a blanket and a glass of water in his hands. He had changed into pyjamas and taken off his glasses.

‘Even drunk he has a point. I figured he’d get you to stay but of course I would have insisted if he didn’t. Now, how exactly did Courfeyrac manage to get rid of his entire glitter supplies in a police cell?’

Grantaire waited until he could hear Enjolras breathe evenly, made sure that his hair was nowhere near his mouth – he did not want to risk him choking on it and it was soft to touch – and joined Combeferre for a hot chocolate and a conversation fading into giggles in the kitchen before they retired to bed.

Grantaire found the sofa to be more comfortable than some beds he had slept in. Equipped with pillows and the blanked Combeferre had given him, he had crafted himself a nest and laid down. The living room was dark, with the only light coming in from the street lamp outside. He could hear Courfeyrac giggle in the adjacent room, probably a result of the cat videos he watched before going to sleep, as he had heard from Combeferre before who had taken to wearing earplugs to bed.

A tap dripped long after the giggling had stopped and Courfeyrac had fallen asleep, a few cars drove by, some kind of late bird sang outside the window and a squeaking sound from the flat next door made him believe that a hamster was running around in its wheel. Grantaire counted the squeaks and cars, the drips from the tap and the changes in tune the bird went through.

Then, he heard another sound, the distinctive sound of somebody rolling over on a mattress, blankets rustling and feet on the ground. Enjolras opened the door and padded through the hallway. Grantaire rolled around until he faced the backrest and squeezed his eyes shut.

‘Grantaire?’ A small voice bored its way into his ears, ‘hey, are you still awake? Shit, I thought I had only dreamt you were sleeping here. I suppose, if you are really crushing on our couch and you are still awake and my head feels foggy – does that mean I actually got drunk after the protest?’

Grantaire sat up, yawned and shuffled to the side to make room for Enjolras. He sat down next to him and buried his face in his hands with a regretful groan. It looked pitiful enough for Grantaire to put an arm around his shoulders.

‘Headache? Nausea? Do you need another glass of water?’

‘Remorse,’ Enjolras rubbed his eyes, ‘I should never have done that, whatever got into me?’

‘Doubt and loss of faith,’ Grantaire shrugged, ‘happens to the best of us. And I got to enjoy quite the sight, to be honest. I didn’t think I would ever get to see you drunk out of your wits.’

‘No need to sugar coat it, R, I got drunk off my ass,’ Enjolras looked up for a moment, ‘please tell me that I didn’t do anything embarrassing!’

‘Would it help you to know that the only part of it captured on video for future generations is your arrival back here? If you want to get rid of that, you will have to nick Courf’s phone,’ Grantaire grinned carefully into the darkness of the living room, ‘although, there is no way I will forget what I got experience tonight. You make a cute drunk, who would have thought!’

‘What?’

‘Yep, cute drunk, that’s you. And you seemed to enjoy the piggyback ride back to the car.’

Enjolras groaned, fell to the side and buried his head under the blanket. Grantaire tried to keep his act together, but then he heard the muffled voice from underneath.

‘Oh Grantaire, I’m so sorry. You can’t imagine how much I wish that had –‘

‘ – never happened? You never said anything embarrassing in front of me? Never done anything regretful? Believe me, I know exactly how you feel,’ Grantaire patted his back over the blanket.

The pile of blankets moved and a blond mop of hair peeked out from underneath it. Enjolras’ eyes gleamed with a curious sparkle. He stared up at him.

‘How?’

Grantaire inhaled deeply and rested a hand on the back of Enjolras’ head. His fingers weaved in the soft hair, stroking it with careful touches. It was something he sometimes got to do when Enjolras let him. He sighed and decided that Enjolras deserved closure.

‘I know because that’s the exact way I feel about whatever I say or do in front of you at any given time. I just never had the courage to tell you,’ he let his thumbs trace the lines on his face.

‘What changed now?’ Enjolras sat up.

‘Seeing you doubt yourself and drinking to forget about those doubts must have triggered something. I guess it reminded me that you are only human, too,’ Grantaire avoided looking at him, despite the darkness.

He felt Enjolras turn his head in his palm, lift it up and lean on his shoulder, ‘You really shouldn’t idolise people.’

‘Well,’ Grantaire cleared his throat, ‘you’ll find I never said I did.’

Enjolras made a sound between scoff, wince and approval. It hit Grantaire somewhere between heart and ribs, warming his skin and taking over his brain for a moment. He pressed a kiss to Enjolras’ temple, having decided that he did not need to cover his back anymore. The experience of seeing Enjolras in the most human state yet made him more courageous than any liquor he could have ingested.

‘You know what?’ Enjolras managed to turn Grantaire’s face towards him, smiling up at him, ‘I think I’m still a bit drunk. Feels surprisingly good, though.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re getting a taste for it? You might end up our resident drunkard after all – or at least challenge me for the title,’ Grantaire patted his shoulder.

Enjolras leant against him, tilting his head up, ‘As if anyone could take that from you. You are funny tonight.’

‘Careful, you might do something you’ll regret,’ Grantaire had to swallow against a lump in his throat, ‘courage acquired with alcohol doesn’t hold up for long and the ideas you have whilst drunk are rarely good when you sober up. Take it from me, I speak from experience.’

Enjolras shook his head. Grantaire opened his mouth to delve into further cautionary tales when he pushed himself up, out of the nest of blankets until they were face to face.

‘No, I don’t think I’ll ever regret this,’ Enjolras closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Grantaire’s.

Grantaire gasped for air, and by doing so opened his mouth further to the searching mouth on his. Enjolras melted into his arms, cuddling up to him. He made an appreciative sound before breaking their kiss a moment later, leaning back onto his heels.

‘No, definitely no regret.’

Grantaire felt lightheaded, his lips tingled and one of his hands rested on Enjolras’ shoulder. He tried to think straight, formulate what he wanted to tell him but no words found their way out of his mouth. It seemed like a dream to him, a late-night vision leading him to believe that he could have a chance with Enjolras.

A hand snaked around his wrist, fingers intertwined with his. Grantaire stared down in between them where their hands were placed on the sofa. Enjolras got his attention back when he cleared his throat carefully. Whatever words he had planned to say did not leave his lips, instead, a yawn broke out of his mouth that was contagious enough to make Grantaire follow suit.

‘Sleep here?’ Enjolras asked sleepily.

‘You have a bedroom in this flat,’ Grantaire grinned and shook his head at his tired and still drunk friend – he really did not want to confuse his weary brain by getting into the details of their relationship at this point – who seemed more than content with his position in his arms.

‘I’m tired. I’m afraid you’ll have to carry me…again, if you want to move this into the bedroom,’ Enjolras nestled his head against Grantaire’s chest.

He flopped back onto the sofa, caving in with a groan. His free hand found the blanket and he pulled it up to cover both of them. Enjolras snuggled up to him with ease, as if it was something they had done before, nothing new and confusing as it was for Grantaire’s consciousness.

‘No more carrying for tonight,’ he yawned and buried his face in Enjolras’ shoulder, ‘and please promise me not to punch me tomorrow for allowing you to do this whilst half drunk!’

Enjolras did not respond to him anymore, sound asleep already.


End file.
